Old Fifth hailed from a renowned domestic special forces unit known as the “Iron Company,” and was even a member of its elite Vanguard Platoon. He had once secured fifth place in the platoon’s internal comprehensive skills competition, which is how he earned the nickname Old Fifth.

Wang Zhuo’s fighting prowess was common knowledge, but without the aid of his X-ray vision, he genuinely might not have beaten Old Fifth, and could very likely have sustained injuries.

However, Wang Zhuo was no longer the street brawler of yesteryear—a solitary figure with nothing to lose. Back then, if he couldn’t win, he ran; if he won, he still had to run, relying solely on his hard fists to speak for him. Now, he possessed the ability to subdue an enemy without conflict, or to contend with momentum rather than brute force.

Therefore, the fact that he chose to resolve the matter with physical force meant he possessed absolute assurance.

That assurance, naturally, stemmed from his X-ray vision.

His initial kick toward Old Fifth was merely a probe, a test of the waters. Old Fifth’s move to grab his ankle, however, was genuine. The moment Wang Zhuo raised his foot to test the defense, he had already locked onto Old Fifth’s entire musculature, blood flow, and even his nervous system. He observed the nerve signals directing blood pressure surges to drive the muscles, and in the instant before Old Fifth’s strike launched, Wang Zhuo had already predicted his movement.

Animal nerves transmit bioelectricity, which travels at three hundred thousand kilometers per second. Thus, Wang Zhuo couldn't react simultaneously to the commands he intercepted from Old Fifth’s nerves. But while the brain issued the command, the body required a measurable delay for the execution. Since Wang Zhuo used a feigned kick, the moment Old Fifth’s command to ‘grab’ was issued, Wang Zhuo issued a counter-command, effectively anticipating the next sequence of moves based on the current one!

The sequence unfolded like this: Wang Zhuo feints the kick; Old Fifth’s brain commands the grab of the ankle; Wang Zhuo commands a sudden close-in punch; Wang Zhuo’s feinted foot lands, Old Fifth misses the grab, and Wang Zhuo closes the distance to punch!

The result was that Old Fifth felt as if he were fighting a prophet. His first action had barely been initiated, not yet fully realized, when Wang Zhuo was already reacting to the inevitable outcome of that move.

As he raised his left arm to block Wang Zhuo’s heavy punch, Wang Zhuo shifted his stance, preparing a sweeping leg attack. When Old Fifth realized the heavy punch was a feint and tried to pull back, Wang Zhuo had already landed the sweep and slammed into him!

What good were special forces training? Even the world’s foremost martial arts masters, facing Wang Zhuo’s calculated intent against their unwitting moves, backed by total preparation and assisted by X-ray vision, would have left defeated. This was no longer a level of combat achievable by humans, unless Old Fifth had planned from the start for a devastating mutual exchange; otherwise, he wouldn't even have managed to graze a single hair on Wang Zhuo’s head!

And so Old Fifth was defeated—cleanly, easily. Even before he lapsed into unconsciousness, he couldn't comprehend why the loss had been so swift.

This ten-second fight was anything but simple on the surface. It perfectly integrated and executed Wang Zhuo’s martial skill, intellect, and supernatural ability. Though brief, it represented the highest peak of Wang Zhuo’s power output to date!

Having dispatched Old Fifth, Wang Zhuo brushed off his sleeves and turned to leave, but paused to scan him with his X-ray vision’s holographic imaging, confirming the man was only temporarily knocked out before feeling relieved.

Although Old Fifth served the spoiled brat Ma Qiang—truly a vicious dog for a vicious master—Wang Zhuo had never witnessed him commit any actual atrocities. Killing or crippling him outright felt too heavy a burden, perhaps.

Walking back after taking down Old Fifth, Wang Zhuo kept his X-ray vision trained on the private room. He suddenly saw Ma Qiang raise his hand to strike Guan Yingying, only to be intercepted by An Qi. Then, Guan Yingying’s counter-attack was blocked by Hai Jun. Ma Qiang then kicked An Qi down. A surge of fury overtook Wang Zhuo. A swift sweep with his X-ray vision, and he sprinted to a nearby clothes drying pole—a stripped, sturdy wooden shaft—uprooting it like a willow tree.

Reaching the window, he braced the pole against the wall, gripping it with his left hand while bracing with his left foot. With his right hand and right foot, he scavenged bricks from the ground floor wall and began to ascend!

This maneuver was something he had learned from the Special Operations Detachment during the 'Jade Watermelon' incident. In just a few moves, he cleared the first floor. He stomped hard on the tip of the pole with his left foot, causing the pole to fall over as he simultaneously spun around, grabbing the windowsill with both hands. With a mighty flex of his biceps, he pulled himself up onto the sill.

When he appeared on the windowsill, the private room was already pandemonium.

Hai Jun released Guan Yingying and started to move toward Ma Qiang to help, but Guan Yingying grabbed his clothes, pulling him back. An Qi had Ma Qiang’s hair firmly gripped, pulling his head down to the height of her lower abdomen, where she was relentlessly kicking at his face. Ma Qiang, possessing some fighting instinct, used his arms to shield his face from her kicks while simultaneously grabbing An Qi’s hands, clearly intending to break her fingers!

Meanwhile, the An Qi who had been kicked down by Ma Qiang was struggling to stand. Ma Qiang’s lackey rushed over to assist, only to be snagged by the belt by the seated An Qi, preventing him from moving his legs. Ning Yao stood off to the side, frozen stiff, while Jiao Yuanbo brandished a chair over his head, swinging it toward An Qi’s back!

If that chair strike had landed, given An Qi’s slender frame, suffering two broken bones or serious internal injuries would have been certain. This was clearly the most critical situation in the room. Wang Zhuo didn't even have time to shout a warning. With two powerful pushes, he launched himself forward between Ning Yao and Hai Jun.

The situation was dire, leaving no time to adjust his posture. As he lunged, his ability instantly maxed out. He precisely tracked the trajectory of the descending chair. He lifted his left hand, his tiger’s mouth locking onto the falling chair leg.

CRACK!

If Jiao Yuanbo’s strike had hit An Qi, it would have resulted in severe injury, at least fractured bones. But Wang Zhuo intercepted it a fraction of a second early, meaning the force wasn't fully realized. Nevertheless, the impact was tremendous, rendering Wang Zhuo’s entire lower left arm numb. Had he not maintained rigorous physical training, even his joints would have been dislocated.

Struck by that brutal blow, Wang Zhuo’s ferocity flared. His momentum carried him, slamming An Qi and Ma Qiang aside. He stabilized himself, letting his throbbing left arm hang down, then suddenly unleashed a right snap kick toward the lackey entangled with An Qi.

This lackey was also a robust young man, perhaps not on Old Fifth’s level, but comparable to Hai Jun. However, Wang Zhuo’s kick was delivered in anger, an impact no ordinary person could withstand. The blow landed directly on the lackey's shoulder, feeling like a sledgehammer strike. His internal organs suffered a violent shock, and he was blasted sideways clear out of the private room!

BANG!

Another cannon-like punch. Hai Jun, who had tried to throw a punch at Wang Zhuo, was struck so fast he didn’t even see the movement. His face was pulverized, and he tumbled backward out the window, maintaining the exact posture of his failed swing.

“Hey—”

Guan Yingying quickly reached out and grabbed him. If the big man had fallen out headfirst in that position, Wang Zhuo’s punch would have constituted involuntary manslaughter!

Had she not pulled him, Hai Jun would truly have fallen out headfirst. However, Wang Zhuo would have certainly rushed forward to catch his feet before he was completely clear, adjusted him into a safe falling posture, and only then released him...

Two opponents neutralized in quick succession. Wang Zhuo shook his still-numb left hand; the muscles in his palm hadn't regained feeling. It was likely at least a muscle contusion.

“Ah…”

An Qi suddenly cried out. Ma Qiang had managed to pry her fingers open and now held a tight grip on four fingers of her right hand. He not only broke free and lifted his head but was violently wrenching her four fingers backward, showing every intention of breaking them.

While exerting brutal force, Ma Qiang scanned his surroundings. He saw Hai Jun sitting on the floor, his face a bloody mess; the lackey was outside the door, struggling to sit up; Jiao Yuanbo stood nearby, his expression one of stark terror, still clutching the now-shattered chair.

And Wang Zhuo stood right beside him, raising his right fist, slowly and firmly clenching it, drawing it back…

“Wait a minute!”

Ma Qiang screamed in fear, only to see Wang Zhuo’s lips curl into a cold, disdainful sneer. The raised fist suddenly blurred into an unrecognizable streak!

THWACK!

The fist, still smeared with Hai Jun’s blood, landed mercilessly on the screaming Ma Qiang’s mouth. Several front teeth shattered instantly. His lips collided with the sharp edges of the broken teeth, instantly tearing deep gashes, especially the thin skin of his lower lip, which was nearly punctured through.

Ma Qiang fell backward. Wang Zhuo shot out his left hand, clamping down on the wrist that was bending An Qi’s fingers, and gave a sharp jerk, instantly freeing An Qi. The pain radiating up his palm made him wince. He had intended to let the punch against Ma Qiang suffice as a lesson, but the sharp pain ignited his temper, and he added a vicious kick to Ma Qiang’s backside.

BOOM!

Ma Qiang crashed headfirst into the pile of tableware scattered on the floor. The overturned table sent cutlery sliding, forming a sharp heap. Ma Qiang landed solidly upon it, the sharp shards forming a tiny mountain of blades. Already immobilized by pain, the agony from the 'knife mountain' triggered a physical reflex; he twisted twice and rolled to the side.

Sharp, bloody, brutal, violent!

The restaurant staff who had rushed to the door upon hearing the commotion froze, too terrified to utter a sound!

Jiao Yuanbo’s legs were shaking uncontrollably; he felt the muscles in his calves were about to twist onto the back of his leg. Lord Ma, the arrogant young master from the capital who had been swaggering moments ago, was now beaten like a dog by Wang Zhuo, convulsing wretchedly on the floor, covered in blood. Things had escalated catastrophically!

Jiao Yuanbo could already foresee his family’s ruin. Given Ma Qiang’s personality, suffering such a humiliating defeat would certainly lead to him taking it out on Jiao Yuanbo. The fate of the Ma family dealing with Wang Zhuo was no longer his primary concern. Now, he had only one question to grapple with: should he run?

Creak, creak.

The soft sole of a men's leather shoe ground against the scattered shards of porcelain, emitting a sound that grated on the nerves.

Wang Zhuo walked to the doorway of the private room, hooked his foot out, and kicked the lackey, who was slumped on the floor, back into the room. He glanced expressionlessly at the peeking service staff and other diners in the hallway, waved his hand, and shut the door to the private room!

“Why is one person still standing?”

He let out a brief, dry laugh, nodding toward the An sisters, who were huddled together trying to straighten their clothes: “I leave them to you two.”